


Brilliant

by hickorysmokedjustice



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Age Difference, Character Death, DT experiments, Depression, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Hero Worship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Injury, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, NO FONTCEST, Poor Sans, Scientist Sans, Self-Harm, Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships, coverups, gaster sucks, help me, horrible misuse of grant money, lab stuff, not dadster, sans and papyrus have two moms, skeleton gaster, they're a menace together, this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hickorysmokedjustice/pseuds/hickorysmokedjustice
Summary: Sans has been schooled for years just to intern for the underground's most prestigious scientist. He's looked up to Gaster for ages, but it seems the scientist isn't quite how Sans expected. Sure, he has a brilliant mind, but how does anyone stand the guy?





	1. Never Meet Your Heros

**Author's Note:**

> so there's more chapters on the way hahaha
> 
> this is my first fic, there was very little editing, i hope it's bearable

Sans waited nervously, ivory bones and coat illuminated by the red-orange magma that he watched bubble and spit at him from below the rocky alcove. It was, admittedly, far more interesting than the looming sterile door of the lab he waited for someone to answer. He felt his magic churn. He was excited to meet the brilliant Royal Scientist, still dumbfounded at the opportunity Asgore had offered him. He reflected, still picturing the moment the dorky king hit his horns on his doorframe, the moment he promised to put Sans through university- and, get this, if he would work with Gaster when he was finished. 

 

He often thought about that; who wouldn't want to work for Doctor Gaster? The guy was a fucking legend. He was, after all, the greatest Royal Scientist to date.

 

He preferred thinking about that, rather than the two decorative urns filled with both of his mothers dust that the king brought with him. He’d been twenty at the time, but with so few skeletons around they were a close knit bunch. He loved his moms and his baby brother. It had been hard moving away, so of course when their judge work became a handful he was happy to step in and take care of Papyrus for the night, despite his studies.

 

Well, that was, suffice to say, quite a few nights ago. Still, he loved Papyrus, taking care of him was a pleasure. He often regarded it the other way around, in fact. He didn't know how else he would have moved on with his life without the energetic little bundle of joy getting him up in the morning.

 

The door opened, causing Sans to jump a little. He scurried to the door. Greeting him, was a small wooden monster with a fixed, blank expression. He swore, nothing of the monster’s expression even twitched save for his eyes, which, were mahogany in colour and fixed upon him, unblinking. The monster was a tad shorter than Sans, which was unfortunately uncommon. Monsters need to shrink, damnit. 

 

At least he wasn't a Whimsun, he figured.

 

The wooden monster spoke, mouth unmoving, “who’s this?”

“Sans. I’m here for the intern position,” he replied.

The monster paused a while, gazing off to places unknown. He offered him a hand, joints creaking audibly. Sans stifled a flinch, there was no way that wasn't painful. He shook his hand. 

“Sheesh. Good luck. I’m Cypress. Seems like we could be working together,” Cypress had an uncomfortably monotonous tone, but he didn't seem like a bad guy.

“Yeah? Nice to meet you.” 

“I’ll show you to the Doctor, before we get too chummy,” Cypress released his hand, leading the way down the hall and through the elevator into the bowels of the lab. Cypress didn't seem to talk much, which gave Sans a chance to wonder what he meant. Asgore had guaranteed him the job, he'd be fine,  _ right? _ Oh god, of all the things he was worrying about, wondering if he’d actually get the damn job wasn't one of them. 

 

Cypress lead him to an office, he noticeably hesitated. 

“Doc doesn't like to be bothered while he's working on something sensitive. So. Er. Good luck,” with that, Cypress made his way down the hall away from Sans, creaking as he walked slowly.

“Hey, wait-”

“Sorry bud. This one's on you,” he waved Sans off.

 

The stout skeleton drew his attention back to The Royal Scientist’s office. He knocked, feeling nervous sweat bead on his skull.

“The  _ hell _ do you want now? This better be good!” a voice returned, irritated, but recognizable from his lectures. It was really him. Gaster was on the other side of this door! Sans could hardly contain himself. Wait, was this important? Would he be upset with him already? He swallowed the lump in his throat

“I'm the new intern” 

Gaster cursed audibly, “...Just, come in”

 

“Un. Fucking. Believable,” the tall skeletal scientist rubbed his face, disgruntled. His long legs were tucked rather comically to his chest, dress shoes hanging off the edge of his office chair. A ball rolled around idly on his desk, he was just previously throwing it against the wall. Sans couldn't help but stand dumbfounded, gazing at his hero from across the desk.  _ This was the man he'd gotten into science for?  _ He felt his smile slowly fade, but he’d give the doctor another chance to live up to the dark and mysterious professional he had in mind. Surely he just caught him at a bad time and he wasn't labeling rolling around in his office chair while tossing a ball against his office wall as “sensitive work”. Just moments ago, Sans had been kicking himself for bothering Doctor Gaster, this was ridiculous, was he even expecting an intern?

 

“Another one?!” Gaster complained, “I told Asgore I was doing just fine. The nerve. I’m sorry you got caught up in all this, er-”

“Sans,” he caught him, trying not to quiver.  _ Nononononono. All those scholarships, all that time and hard work. _ He almost felt like crying, panic welling up. This was the summit of his career. The cumulation of all his work, was it all about to go down the drain? 

“-Sans,” Gaster eyed the smaller skeleton, seeing him shake like a leaf. Fuck, Asgore had preped another for this job, hadn’t he? It was a damn waste of everyone’s time, not to mention resources, “I’ve been telling him for years, I don't want an interns”

 

Sans was definitely shaking pitifully now, eyelights shrinking in panic. This was his dream job, damnit. He was  _ so close _ . Not to mention, he desperately needed this money to care for his little brother.

“Take a seat.” Gaster grimaced, resting his chin in his hand. He was angry, mostly that he was put out again. He watched as Sans obliged, before removing his focus from the tragedy before him and taking out his phone to call Asgore.

 

It was now, Sans got to look at him. He tried to collect himself, but even in all his unprofessionalism, the Doctor was attractive. More so, he noted, up close than in the lectures. That didn't help his panic. Gaster was donned in a white turtleneck, black slacks and a white labcoat. He was still curled up in his office chair. Sans studied his face. His eyes always looked tired, removed from the situation, uninvested. Gaster’s usual subtle lopsided grin was obstructed by the noticeable annoyance on his face. 

“What the fuck. Asgore, this poor fucking kid. You dumped these shitty expectations on him. You know how much education costs these days-” Gaster spun in his chair a little as he spoke and Sans could feel himself slip away into his thoughts a little. Oh, it was so nice reading his work. A brilliant mind and a skeleton nonetheless. Sans felt like he’d almost known the doctor with all his reading, until today, of course, where he realized he wasn't… quite how he expected. Still, his childish crush took this as fuel, despite the poor circumstances.

 

  * \- -



 

“Yes, a real tragedy. I understand. You’re only making it worse by giving him false expectations. Your game's hurting these brilliant minds. -Oh. You thought I'd enjoy having another skeleton around. Nice,” Great. Species profiling. Gaster kept his grumbling off the phone, he’d given up with the old man. He swore, Asgore was like a clueless, well-meaning grandfather. Gaster suddenly stopped, legs falling flat on the floor. He sat up straight, bringing his elbow to the table and his hand to his brow, “you took... how much out of my grant to educate and house him?” Gaster pinched his brow. Unbelievable. That was  _ his _ funding to misuse. His voice grew monotonous, “Asgore, you know that all that’s going to come of this is a delay in progress. I’ll just submit a request for a difference, you’ll accept it. If you don't, my hands are tied. I don’t see your end game here”

 

Gaster’s change in tone snapped Sans out of his daydreaming. He rubbed his face with an exasperated sigh. It was hopeless, he should just cover his losses. He let his shoulders slump as he examined the grain of his desk. It was agonizing, waiting like this, watching someone he admired so much fight to send him home. He looked up to see Gaster looking at him. The doctor leaned back in his chair, arms folded as he held his cell to his head, listening to Asgore. His lopsided grin returned mischievously. He waited a while before clacking his teeth together. 

“I change my mind. I’ll keep him,” Gaster stated plainly. Sans felt his soul skip a beat. His eyes widened as he looked at the lankier skeleton, dumbfounded. Was this really happening? “...if-” Gaster began.

 


	2. Forty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the amount of fun i had writing this is probably concerning.
> 
> i'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled on friday so, i'll either write alot or not at all
> 
> in other news while i was writing this a ladybug landed in my hair. he's a cute fellow. i think bugs like my hairspray 
> 
> anyways, i don't mind ladybugs, thank you for the good luck lil' guy

“If, you let me follow through with my research” He looked at his phalanges, leaning back with the smuggest grin, “I’ll give the intern a chance if you give me forty inmates to test with. Make them disappear. You have a month.”

 

Sans stared at him. He couldn't think of any good reason Gaster could have for testing on inmates. He shuddered, feeling his soul drop. He felt a twinge of his panic return, the doctor in front of him seemed to beam at the prospect of new test subjects. What would he even use them for?  _ Oh god, I’m a witness now, aren't I? Am I supposed to stay quiet about this?  _

 

“Oh hush, that's a generous timeframe. You asked for this, didn't you? The project was your suggestion. It’s not my fault you couldn't get the ramifications through your thick skull,” he set his feet on his desk, looking all too comfortable while presumably pushing the king around.

 

Sans couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was very clearly a bargaining chip for the lives of forty. Forty monsters. Just for his job. Sans shifted uncomfortably. He should leave, he should just run. He wasn't worth this shit. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his arms against the arms of his seat, eyeing the door. The intern remained in this position for a while before slumping back into the chair with a defeatist puff of breath. He closed his eyes, fiddling with his hands. 

 

Oh god, there must be something very wrong with him, because he fucking wanted this job. This was the sum of all his work- fuck if it only took the lives of forty to soundly reach his ambitions and all it took was an inaction… 

 

He could even pretend he didn't hear what Gaster said. This wasn't even any of his business, right?

 

Sans felt like he was going to be sick.

 

Gaster watched the small skeleton writhe with the implications of his words, struggle with his own morality. He saw him almost get up, fully expecting him to leave. Yes, nobody else was strong enough to do what it takes to make  _ real  _ progress. He’d leave, surely unfortunate for his dealings with Asgore, but he’d find another way to get what he wanted. Besides, he didn't know if an intern was even worth it. 

 

His smug expression wavered when the intern remained seated. He heard Asgore's reluctant acceptance of his terms and neglected a response for a few moments, far more suprised by the skeleton before him than the king’s compliance. When he spoke again it was distracted. The doctor could be very single-minded at times, “Glad to hear it. Thanks, Azzy, we’ll see how your intern holds up.” He hung up. 

 

Gaster leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the table as he bridged his lengthy phalanges together in front of his mouth. He studied Sans, who, currently looked like he was about to throw up. Gaster buried his excitement.

 

“Still want the job?” he asked, after some time.

Sans jumped, startled out of the depths of his mind once again, “I-I-I, I mean, of course, Sir.” 

Gaster was unable to sate his crooked grin, “is something wrong? I thought this was a dream job for you. Years of schooling. Tsk. You deserve this position, do say you’ll take it.”

“Nothing. I'll take it, heh,” Sans swallowed, fixing his gaze on those slender fingers rather than the look in Gaster’s sockets. 

 

Monsters were made of love, magic and dust, they say. It was far against their nature to commit ill deeds. He recalled his mothers talking about the icy feeling a monster who had killed before tended to have, like a piece of the puzzle was taken from them. Lucida said she could judge roughly the LV of any monster by how harsh their killer’s stare was. Calibri regarded this as bragging, as did Sans who failed to see how you could actually judge based upon a glance. After all, he'd never met a monster with EXP. He knew that now, looking at his boss.

 

He no longer doubted Lucida. There was something very unmonster about how Gaster studied him. He could feel his respect for him falter, remembering the judges that raised him. His expression turned to disgust.

 

Gaster saw the intern’s turmoil once again, how he loved seeing them squirm. 

“Make no mistake, your job will have a price. I know you heard me. Now then, make your choice”

 

So that's how it was. Gaster was directly making him choose between his career and the lives of forty, there was no pretending he didn't hear him now. He let out a shaky breath, “I… just give me a moment”

“You are not to leave this room without a decision. If you leave before making one, the job isn’t yours,” Gaster let his hands fall onto the desk, folding gently below him as he pierced Sans’ very soul with his gaze.

“May I ask a few questions?”

“Ask away.”

Sans took a deep breath, “what will you use them for?”

“I have some curiosities involving the synthesis of Determination,” he chose his words carefully, Sans could not know that the research was needed. The scientist had decided this was now an experiment on the smaller skeleton's resolve.

“Curiosities. There are fucking, ...lives! Lives are at stake and you’re using them on a hunch! I thought you were a fucking  _ decent monster _ .”

“Perhaps you were wrong. There's nothing to be done about that right now. Your choices are clear and separate from my interests.”

Sans fumed for a while, glaring at Gaster’s smug disposition. He still… wanted to take the job. He wanted this so bad. 

“Can I call Asgore?”

“I don't know, can you?”

Sans chuckled without mirth, “answer the damn question. Are you going to, lock me away somewhere in the lab or something if I call the king about this?”

“Don't call the king,” Gaster drummed his fingers on the table. Did he really think he’d do that to him? Fascinating. This game was getting intricate. “Make your choice soon, I don't have all day.”

 

“Fuck,” Sans gripped his skull, “If I said yes, would you report me or something?”

“I won't. It’ll be between you and me.”

“I want this job,” he spoke meekly, “is that wrong? I’m a horrible person”

Gaster gave him a smile, that was strangely warm, “no, nothing’s wrong with ambition…” shit, what was his name again? “this is your job. You have a damn right to it, no matter what the ramifications. You could do so much good here. Don't let anything stand in your way.” Whoever he was, he swayed him. Maybe he wouldn't mind this intern so much.

 

Sans nodded slowly, thinking. “Yes,” Sans began, “I’ll take the job.” His voice was still hush, unable to comprehend how exactly he was fucking agreeing to this.

 

Gaster beamed at him, holding out a hand. Stars, maybe he wasn't so bad. Look at that dorky lopsided smile. Sans stood and took his hand, shaking it with a sheepish smile.

 

“Good to have you, er,”

Sans felt his shoulders slump a little, “Sans. The name’s Sans.”

“Good to have you, Sans, I’m expecting great things.”

“It’s a pleasure to have this opportunity, Doctor Gaster.”

 

Gaster released his grip on Sans, all to soon for the smaller's liking. “Take a seat, Sans,” he tossed a ball at the intern once he was seated. He cackled when he didn't catch it.

“Shit, sorry,” Sans reached down to grab the ball, then held it in his hands. He felt flustered and embarrassed by his boss, “Guess I wasn't, on the ball, h-heh.”

 

Gaster tried to stifle his snickers with a hand to his mouth, but a guffaw escaped him despite his best efforts. Sans felt a subtle blue blush bloom on his cheekbones. Oh, his idol appreciated bad jokes too. Not even just bad jokes, but  _ his _ bad joke.

 

“Anyways, we have some boring shit to attend to before I can show you around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who wants to join me on my crusade to punch gaster in the face


	3. Motes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wrote most of this really high ngl
> 
> painkillers just hit me really hard
> 
> there's some character development and plot in this one
> 
> sans is. really thirsty im sorry
> 
> me too tbh i was really gay and hit on all my friends while the codeine was kicking my ass. because. zero filter and i kind of really like the way this hurts rn
> 
> i kind of have a disaster to clean up? it's ok tho lol

Gaster wasn't kidding, Sans could barely focus on what he was saying after the first little while. He fought to keep his eyes open. While he treasured the opportunity to work with Gaster, his voice could easily become droning and detached as his mind wandered elsewhere. His boss covered mostly housekeeping matters and emergency procedures. Eventually Sans was handed a workbook, which he gratefully accepted to quell the speech that seemed to be putting even Gaster himself to sleep.

Gaster stood, stretching. “I’ll show you around…” be trailed off, a glimmer in his eyes taking ahold of him. He dug through papers frantically, “-tomorrow, I’ll show you around tomorrow. Read the booklet, my lab is practically my child. I won't have you fucking up the equipment. The last intern I had disappeared, nobody can prove anything, but you know, watch your back if you want to try and steal my shit. Now go- gogogo.” Gaster jotted notes down frantically, trying to catch his idea before inspiration left him.

“Uh. Welp. Thanks Sir, I’ll leave you to making ‘the next core’ or something, heh,” Sans scooted out of his chair. “See ya.”  
Gaster didn't look up as Sans made his way out, “if you don’t shut that damn door, you’re fired.”  
Nice. Is this how it was going to be? Sans shut the door, following the way Cypress had shown him out.

He was almost at the river when he received a text from Asgore, “Sans. I fear I have not been completely forthright about your job. Now that you've met him, I would like to speak with you in person. Today, if possible”  
Sans couldn't help but wonder how the everloving fuck the king managed to text with those big meaty paws. He shook it off before responding, “hey. he just sent me home. i’ve still got some time before paps gets out of school. “  
“That works well! Please meet me in the throne room, soon as you can. I am making you tea and I do not want it to get cold.”  
Sans chuckled to himself, letting out a sigh. He was still stressed out over the earlier moral dilemma, maybe sharing some tea with Asgore would help him out.

\---

The walk was pleasant, even through the judgement hall which was aglow by fractions of the noon sun filtering through chasms in the mountain. He watched the dust motes dance and swirl in the yellow light, flecks of flaming gold-leaf in their stark contrast to the eerie still the hall always invoked upon Sans. He wondered, if some of those dust motes remained from the judges he’d known as parents. Still, as he gazed out the window, he couldn't think of a more beautiful place.

He hoped that when he met his end, it would be in such a place. He felt like he could almost just slip away into the stillness. Right here. Perhaps he could just will himself to become one of the motes, twirling thoughtlessly, unburdened by thought. Or his dust could settle lazily between the floor tile. An attractive idea. He wondered if he could just do that by will; skeletons were so magic based that Sans wouldn't be surprised. He couldn't always place where this emptiness originated, but it was something he had to battle. Something he had to. He closed his eyes, giving it a try.

 _Not today. I have to pick up Papyrus from school_. His eyes fluttered open and he felt himself move again, though his weary bones seemed to detest the idea. It felt almost like he was watching himself. Nothing in him wanted to move, so why was he?

\---

Sans found Asgore huddled over his flowers with a cup of tea and he knew he could understand what the king felt, in some measure.  
“Hey Asgore,” he greeted, sitting beside him, “what did you want to talk about?” Sans’ smile was sunny and so was the king's. Yes, Sans understood.  
Asgore let out a troubled sigh, “ I need you to be more than an intern for Gaster” He brushed his huge thumb over the dainty patterns of his cup, tapping against it nervously.

Sans let his thoughts wander, damn, he wouldn't mind being more than an intern for that genius. He bet Gaster could really pin him against a wall. He could be Gaster's. That would be ideal, really. To just be, taken by him. He sighed a little.

“-Sans, are you okay? Did you hear what I said?” Asgore gave him a look.  
“Er, yeah, yes, I'm fine. Sorry, can you repeat that?” shit, he was in deep. Gaster was an ass, a murderer, there wasn't even a sliver of hope for, whatever these dumb fantasies were. He felt mortified, he was thirsting after his boss so hard he wasn't paying attention to the king. Oh god he hoped in some round-about way Asgore wanted him to really be there for Gaster. Maybe he was just misunderstood and needed some love. Wouldn't that be a dream come true-  
“I chose you because your parents were notoriously good judges. Gaster is brilliant, an asset to the underground. But there's a certain point… where, well, misdeeds outweigh the good he’s done,” Asgore looked off into his flowers with a sad look, “you see, he has my hands tied behind my back because I can't effectively fire him. He’s a genius, a one of a kind down here… but he’s grown horrible in his position. I fear his plots to be increasingly dangerous for my kingdom and have reason to believe he wishes to commit regicide.” Asgore's ears drooped.

Sans looked away. Shit. Gaster already had him wrapped around his finger, Sans shouldn't be in this position. He already felt it deep within him;

No, the scientist was not fit for his position. The looks he gave him were barely monster, but, fuck, he couldn't turn in his hero.

Sans rubbed the back of his head, “gee, so I choose if he loses his job or not”  
“Yes, I’m asking you to spy on him of course,” Asgore sighed. Gaster was, very close to him. He’d been Royal Scientist longer than Sans had been alive. He continued, “I’ve seen your work, you don't match his brilliance, but with the gifts of both your mother’s judgment, I think it would do the underground better with you in his position.”  
Asgore. Oh Asgore. He’d make him Royal Scientist if he turned in Gaster? He really should, anyways. He felt it from Gaster. There was a coldness to him, a hard line of ambition that triumphed over all else. The older skeleton had a dangerous thirst for power that couldn't be quenched, there it was for Sans, lain out plain and simple with his insights. Gaster was not fit for his job.

He paused a long time before clearing his throat, “yeah, you can count on me your majesty”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah sans is bitter and gay
> 
> asgore is just looking out for his people
> 
> gaster needs an ass whooping
> 
> which i could probably do. I am .on top of the world rn. i could fight him
> 
> square up gaster how bad me be


	4. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so wow there's a bit of ** sexual content **
> 
> that just kind of happened. it's there under the --* separator
> 
> more character development rlly
> 
>  
> 
> my stitches are coming loose. i might've accidentally ripped them out on my left side and now there's just kinda a string hanging from my gums into the back of my throat
> 
> other than that im recovering great

“I do appreciate it Sans,” Asgore replied, the look Sans received was one of understanding. It finally struck him, that Gaster's insubordination is something the king must have been struggling with since before Sans was even born. He didn't know the scientist’s story, but he knew there had only ever been three Royal Scientists since they were first trapped down here. Gaster had been Royal Scientist longer than both his predecessors combined, a whopping 632 years.

 

An extensive lifespan for any monster, not granted eternal life by the crown. Skeletons were rare and little was written in them, but any skeleton could tell you that most clock out at about 200. Of course, this spurred wild rumours and conspiracy about Gaster being granted boss monster status without a trial, but the general obscurity on their race and lack of proof that the doctor exhibited any other effects of ascension had turned the movement into a disaster of misinformation. 

 

Sans had always assumed this to be true, though before meeting him he didn't understand why Asgore didn't publicise his ascension as he had with both of the earlier scientists, but now he understood. Gaster was corrupt, he must have failed his trials and that couldn't go public. 

 

Boss monsters, were susceptible to corruption. The trade-off for an indefinite lifespan and better magic was the amplification of any character faults as they grew bitter in the years. They say boss monsters feel with a different depth than the others, more gripped by intense emotions. This made some highly empathetic, others, tyrannical. This meant rigorous testing to ensure the monster wouldn't become dangerous, trials, often carried out by judges who had magic to pierce into a monster’s deepest intentions. 

 

If Gaster failed his trials, that meant Asgore, a monster with a high moral code, broke his own laws in his favor. Asgore must have placed a lot of trust in him and it was painfully written on his worn features.

 

Sans nodded. Asgore broke from the solemn mood with a sunny smile. It was so easy for the bereaved king to wear one, his soft smile radiated convincingly. A conveyance of hope for his people, he wore it like a badge contained in the crow’s feet wrinkles spread from eyes too old for his body and rosy cheeks. 

 

His eyes widened momentarily, “ah! Yes! I almost forgot to offer your tea!” He hung his head, shaking it with his deep chuckle as he handed Sans a cup, “My apologies, I get rather side-tracked.”

“Thanks Asgore, hey, no problem, you’ve got allot to worry about. I don’t know how you’ve done it for so long.”

“Hah! It is a wonder to me as well, at times,” Asgore’s gaze shifted back to the flowers, a sprawling mat across the throne room.  _ Nice going, Sans. Smooth. Remind the guy of his family.  _ Often, monsters neglected just how resilient these flowers were. Stepping on them, was less crushing a delicate bloom, and more jabbing your foot with its woody, thorny stalk. He came to rest on the fact Asgore walked barefoot over them. He wondered why the king didn't just make a path.

“Don't say that. You’re a beacon of hope for all of us, the kindest king we could hope for. You’ve made it this far through your BRAVERY and PATIENCE, the making of a fine ruler, as you’ve proven,” Sans sipped his tea.

Asgore watched Sans, contemplatively silent for a moment, “You really do take after them, you know. Truly great woman, sometimes I think to them for inspiration.” He drank more of his tea.

Sans smiled gently at the thought, showing off those teeth just a bit more, “yeah. I miss them.”

“I understand. I do too,” the statement hit Sans hard, he knew how much that really meant. The two of them were both mourning. Both of them knew they were clinging to something lost all too tightly. Neither had the will or means to do much about it though.

 

They knew it was rotting them out from the inside, but there was nothing to be done but wait and hope it rectified itself with distraction. Asgore had given voice to the quiet understanding they had. 

 

Sans rubbed the back of his skull, giving him a curt nod. They finished their tea in a comfortable silence before Sans made the trek home to pick up Papyrus from school.

 

\---

 

The Riverperson stopped him from boarding on the way home, boney fingers resting uncomfortably on Sans’ sternum. Although they had no facial features to speak of under that faded coat, he could feel the weight of their gaze, causing a shiver to run down Sans’ spine. Their head tilted down to face their hand, gripping at the skeleton's lab coat tightly. This change of disposition from their regular cheery mood was frankly, terrifying. 

**_“Tralala. Truthful lips endure, I suppose I can't be so angry, considering. Still.”_ **

Sans blinked. Everyone was fairly certain the Riverperson was an oracle. Could they really tell his plans so easily? 

 

They let go of him, trembling a little. They stepped back onto their boat, gesturing for him to follow.

**_“It’s treason, don't you know?”_ **

Sans hesitated, but the walk was a long one that would certainly end with Papyrus waiting alone in the snow. He boarded, refusing to look at them the rest of the way.

 

\---

 

The bell rang, Sans stood ankle-deep in snow as he waited for the decade old bundle of energy. It wasn't long before he found himself on his back in the snowbank. His little brother wrapped his arms around him, having a giggle fit.

“Heheh. You goof,” He pried Papyrus off of him to hold him up where he could see his beaming smile, teeth missing here and there. He paused for a moment, putting up a mock thinking face, “You look different, bro, didja get a haircut or something?”

“Nyeheh! No, you bonehead! We don't have hair! You know that!” Papyrus scrunched his nose bridge at Sans.

“Speak for yourself,” he brought his phalanges over his skull dramatically, as if brushing against invisible locks of long, luxurious hair.

Papyrus stuck his tongue out at Sans, closing his eyes. He blew a raspberry at him before crawling off and offering him a hand, “I think it is time you faced reality brother, you are never going to grow hair. But that is okay! It’s another thing that makes us unique!”

Sans accepted his help, dusting off the powdery snow that clung to his slacks, “nah. I’m gonna grow a full head of hair, then you can eat your words”

“Maybe! Ooooh! I could get you a wig for Christmas!” he squealed, clapping his hands together, cushioned by poofy mittens.

Oh gosh, his little brother was cute. He knew he had lost another tooth, it was pretty easy to tell. 

 

“That's really sweet of you, Papy,” he shot his brother a sideways glance and a growing smile, “hey...”

“Sans, I know that look, don’t you dare!”

That only fueled the older's shiteating grin, “I’m sure a wig will make the cut. Especially if it's too long.” 

Papyrus scrunched his face up, holding back laughter. He opted to hold his breath until it wasn't funny anymore, his cheeks ablaze orange. 

Sans snorted, “you’ll need some h _ air  _ soon enough, bucko”

Papyrus let out an indignant muffled screech, before opening his mouth and gasping for air. He managed not to laugh, giving Sans a judgemental look, “you’re t-terri-terry-ble” 

“Ouch, love ya too.”

Papyrus pouted, “puns are the lowest form of humour I’ll have you know! You're above them!”

“Nah. Puns are just my level of humour. Let's head home”

He nodded, taking his hand, “oh shooosh. Brother, do not sell yourself short, you’re the coolest!”

They started walking, “yeah? Don't sell yourself short, you’re the coolest dude around. The Great Papyrus” Sans smiled, such a good kid. He was so lucky to have him around. 

The Great Papyrus squealed again, headbutting Sans’ arm delightedly, “Nyeh. Oh! Hey! I lost a tooth today!” He stopped walking to practically bounce. 

“Yeah? Hmmm. So it wasn't a haircut.”

“Do you think the tooth fairy is going to come on time this night?!”

“Oh-, heh, yeah, hopefully. Seems like she's a lazy thing.”

“I’m sure she's just busy!”

 

\--* 

 

Sans didn't sleep well this night. He tossed and turned, eventually resorting to making constellations with the ceiling popcorn. It had been hours since he snuck 5 G under Papyrus's pillow, hours still since he’d tucked the kid in.

 

He was still processing the situation. Every bone in him wanted to help that asshole at the lab. Scenarios danced through his head. Yes, he could use this to gain the Royal Scientist’s trust. It wasn't even betraying the king, was it? He could be a double agent. That was his plan. Absolutely.

 

...Ugh. The Riverperson didn't seem so convinced, Sans couldn't even convince himself. There was just something so fucking  _ attractive  _ about running around, lying for Gaster, becoming his confidant. Gaster was his inspiration. He was a damn mentor for him and this crush had lasted a long time. 

 

But Asgore… Asgore had been more than a mentor. He wouldn't have made it this far without him. He liked to think of the king as a friend. Not only would lying to Asgore be treason, it would be putting his life, the kingdoms well-being and their friendship in jeopardy. Something was fucking wrong with him. Asgore had made himself so… humble. So personal. He was the citizen king. King Fluffybuns. He made sure to value himself just as much as the next monster.

 

Gaster was, untouchable in his position. He knew if anyone took his place, quality of life for the underground would decrease significantly and he lapped it up. He tested his limits, he exerted his power. He was uncaring and separate, he was regal and ruthless, after his own ambitions. This perfect balance of clinical professionalism and spiteful immaturity just to show he’d played his cards that  _ well  _ and didn't even need to  _ pretend anymore.  _ Gaster was, 

 

_ Godly _ .

 

Why was that so hot? Why was he more attracted to him now? His soul fluttered in his ribcage. He let his fingers trail gently to rub at his pelvis. He closed his eyes, imagining they were Gaster's. He sniffled a little, feeling tears pinprick his sockets. Why couldn't things just be easier?

 

He stopped. Damnit, now all he could think about was the damn Riverperson. What if that creepy fellow was watching. Their hands reminded Sans of Gaster's and that, put him off. He shoved it aside and returned to touching himself, thumbing over his pubic ridge as he squirmed a little, holding his mouth closed. He let his magic form, a pussy this time. He rubbed himself then fingered his clit. He spread his legs, bent at the knees. His covers draped over them, there was the faint blue glow from his magic as he pulled his shorts down a tad. He pushed back his folds, rubbing at his entrance directly before inserting a finger.

 

He panted quietly, “Gaster…” He bit the side of his tongue, wondering what he’d prefer him to summon, a bright blue sported on his cheekbones.  _ Sorry I had to choose for you.  _ He moved his finger, drawing the smallest of pleasured squeaks from him. He bucked his hips into his hand, head lolling back. He inserted another finger, sacrificing the hand he was currently biting down on to rub more at his clit as he pumped his fingers. Fuck, there was something so wrong with him to get off on the turmoil of the situation, Gaster's shitty manipulative personality. He handled himself roughly, moving his hand from his clit to scratch at his own ribs gently, again, imagining Gaster’s touch.

 

He bit onto his tongue as he finished, arching his back as he withdrew his fingers and curled up under the blankets with a sigh. He would tell Gaster about the deal with Asgore. They would plot together.

  
He felt horrible, disgusting, untrustworthy and worthless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha i bet u thought i meant with asgore after my high comments
> 
> ... that would be hot im sorry. kinda disappointed tht it isn't myself
> 
>  
> 
> ok but real talk like
> 
> have you seen a god dang kid's skull. they are more filled with teeth than a tiny car filled with clowns
> 
> it's freaky
> 
>  
> 
> also sans is getting kind of kinky??? idk?? just a lil?? he needs to calm down gaster is nothing
> 
> was the Sexual Content™ ok? 
> 
> i have some. plans. as seen in the tags
> 
> oh boy.

**Author's Note:**

> hah sorry


End file.
